Willow Waves
by Elliot Grace And Theories
Summary: His eyes were void of emotion, so frighteningly empty that Petra feared he wasn't human. She could only imagine the torture inflicted upon him, the pain he endured to have made him this way. 'Those slaves, they are only human shells of what were once people. Levi is one of them, Petra. He is not like you and me, he has no humanity left in his soul. Don't look for it.' Historical AU
1. Rise

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

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 **Title: Willow Waves**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre: Romance/Angst**

 **Pairing: Levi/Petra**

 **Important Note: My history is incredibly flawed and I'm such a mountain of ignorance when it comes to most colonies and history that doesn't include Japan, Korea, Turkey and Australia, so I've decided to make this a HUGE AU. In this, the British and the French did slave trade regularly and it set them an alliance with each other. I know slavery wasn't huge in Britain like it was in many countries and unfortunately still is, but for the sake of story telling, I'm making the historical British and French governments bastards who actually had the audacity to make slave trade. Capiche? Capishe. So if they're any history nerds out there reading this (*cough*pleasebymytutor*cough*) and you guys realize some intense historical error, trust me, I don't know any better. This is my own AU of mid-18th century England. Including the sovereign because really, who gives two craps about who was king or queen? I certainly don't.**

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She knew of the tales of the special slave men that the French bred as well as she knew the story of Red Riding Hood; she heard of it, listened to it but didn't know whether it was true. It was like a secret that everybody spoke about, speculated on, wondered whether it existed truly. Nobody in Petra's Western England city had ever witnessed the usage of a Lemoi slave, male or female. It wasn't until Petra was nine that she first set eyes on one.

How did she know? The mark. The word Lemoi branded on their forehead, right beneath the hairline and small enough to miss if you didn't focus enough. But if that didn't capture your attention, the look in their eyes certainly did. Petra watched the slave walk with his master, one hand on his musket sheathed at his waist, the other by his side. He looked downwards, head bowed obediently. His master, an arrogant distant relative of the royal family, who even Petra's own compassionate father hated, flaunted his new possession with a proud smirk, his nose high in the air.

'First of his kind in this place,' he announced to people who asked. 'This city has never seen Lemoi's marvellous creations firsthand. He's a masterpiece!'

A masterpiece. A property. Not a human being with feelings and free will, but a soulless, empty-eyed possession that Claude Lemoi himself created and was known for. Petra took one look at the slave's stoic face, void of any emotion. And his eyes, dull as a rusty sword. Empty. The blue pupils, something that would be so beautiful to look at otherwise, were so bare that Petra had to glance away, frightened at the lack of...everything in his stare. It was scarring, a scar that etched itself into her very soul.

Later that night, she heard her father and mother speak after dinner about the introduction of Lemois in the city.

'He looks dead,' her mother whispered, as though not to let Petra hear from where she thought was the other room but was actually the corridor. 'That's what makes them Lemoi's slaves.' Her father replied gravely.

'How does he make them?' Mother asked, voice shaking.

'It is only rumours but I know it to be truth,' Petra heard her father shift, as though leaning in closer to his wife to speak softly, 'I hear that Lemoi finds young people off the streets and confines them. Uses a drug that tortures their mind and makes them delirious. It is a harsh process, and once he is done, he forces them into submission. Those men and few women,' her father swallowed, 'they are treated less than animals, and live as so. The mental abuses they go through force their mindset into believing they are tools. Possessions.'

'Dear Lord,' her mother gasped. 'How could they do such a thing?'

'Lemoi,' Mr Ral said, 'is a heartless perfectionist. He wants power, and what better power is there than that of superiority over other human beings? Lemoi slaves, they are human shells that used to be people once. Like you and me. Like Petra,' her father choked up. 'The things those children go through, dear, to become those slaves.' Petra's eyes began to sting, and she stuffed her fist in her mouth. 'They must have been only a little older than our beautiful daughter, maybe some even younger.' A sob escaped her father's mouth and it scared her, the emotions her own papa showed and it was only indicative of how frightening the experience of the slaves were. Petra was not wrong in being afraid of that slave, of the look in his eye.

'Hush, dear. We must be grateful.' Her mother voiced. 'It seems that from now there will only be more slaves to be imported. The others will have to leave.'

And it was true. Slaves were everywhere in England, some the poor and some the criminals, and others the French slaves that came on ships. Lemoi's slaves weren't numerous enough for them to be popular in places other than London. But after the royal relative's flaunting visit with his new toy, the rich folk of Petra's city abandoned their regular slaves, replacing them with their Lemoi counterparts.

By the time Petra turned thirteen, there were over ninety Lemoi slaves in her community, all owned by the wealthy, all carrying swords and muskets and had the skills of warriors. They were used as such. Guards for their masters' homes, manslayers of those who dared to double cross their owners. They followed them with animal-like obedience, nothing but emptiness in their endless eyes as they did everything they were told.

Over the years, Petra learnt many things about the slaves.

 _They don't experience human emotions_ , the baker said.

 _They do not even bathe without their masters' permission_ , the blacksmith explained.

 _Some Lemois who lose their values to their owners commit suicide because their usefulness has ended. They know nothing else_ , the seamstress exclaimed.

 _One French Lemoi has the man power of five English soldiers_ , whispered the apothecary, _don't let the king hear I said that._

But when Petra was fourteen, it was the Lemoi of the Duke that had everybody talking. He had just been shipped from France, a small man with no height or brawns and grey eyes that never looked up from the ground. Rumours had it that this man had the strength of three Lemois ( _that's worth fifteen English soldiers!_ the apothecary cried) and had been an assassin and weapons master in France before he became a slave that was sold for the highest bidding price ever given for a Lemoi. He was a treasure, the Duke's greatest prize that followed him everywhere he went. But his master, who Petra once looked up to as the leader of their community, was nothing but a fiend to her eyes when she saw his treatment of his slave.

It was in the streets of the city, in front of the dress shop that the Duke's wife frequented, that he hit the Lemoi across the face for not greeting the his friend. 'Where are your manners, Lemoi?!' he bellowed, striking the slave again, harder this time. Petra watched from across the street, terror seizing her heart. The Lemoi made no sound, accepting the blows. 'On your knees now, scum,' the Duke snarled, 'forehead to the floor like the animal you are.'

And in horror, Petra watched the Lemoi drop to his knees, slowly bowing forward. But he was too slow, or the Duke was too impatient because he slammed his foot down on his slave's head, the loud crack of bone resonating in the quiet streets as everyone held back their gasps. Petra's eyes watered, her hand clutching her chest. Her father turned her away, pressing her face into his shirt. 'Don't look, sweetheart. Don't look.' He murmured. Petra cried silently, eyes shielded from the traumatic sight she witnessed.

'Don't you dare disrespect me or anyone above you, rat. You are nothing, you hear? You are but a possession and you will act as such.' The Duke's voice echoed the streets, and women shuffled their children away before they began to cry.

'Do you hear me?!' Petra jumped, and her father held her tighter. Another crack reached herears, and she knew it was because the Duke stepped on him again. She shuddered.

'Yes, master.' The voice was nasally but clear, completely void of emotion and pain that Petra knew he would be feeling. That any human would be feeling. To be dehumanised, trampled on and physically abused in public. Bile rose in Petra's throat. And when the Duke commanded him to bow at his friend's feet so he could step on him too, her father ushered her home before she could see.

That night, she listened to him recount the story to his mother in the reading room, and she wept. 'Our poor girl,' she sniffed, 'that poor Lemoi. What they've had to endure.'

'Even if they drop to the price of bread in the poorest streets of England, I promise you we will never do that, dear. No Lemoi will enter this house as a slave.' The Rals weren't the richest family in the city, but they were not poor. Her father was a merchant and well off enough to afford two slaves to help with the housework. But the very next day, Petra's parents set them free. They were two young women, Hannah and Elizabeth, Petra's nannies growing up and her closest friends. Elizabeth had been asked for by the blacksmith's son down the street that everyone knew loved her like his life, and Petra's father gave them his blessings as her stand-in father. As for Hannah, he gave her enough money to get her life started. With one last kiss to her forehead, Hannah wished Petra a delightful future and thanked her parents for their good treatment of her. Petra never saw her again, although a year later, Elizabeth announced news of her pregnancy. It was the best news she'd heard in the longest time.

-X-

When she was seventeen, it happened. It was a late raining evening and she and her mother were waiting for her father's return from a trip to London. Just as they were about to give up and begin dinner without him, an urgent knock sounded at the door.

'He's here,' Petra called out to her mother who was putting soup in bowls in the kitchen. Throwing open the door, she opened her mouth to welcome her father home but it died on her lips.

Her father stood in the rain, a bloody man's arm thrown over his shoulder as he supported the man's weight. 'Help me bring him in, Petra,' her father declared, and without thinking Petra grabbed the man's other arm and pulled it over her shoulder. He slumped in their support and they hauled him in. The door shut behind them from the harsh wind.

'Honey?' Her mother's voice came through the corridor, but when she stepped out she gasped. 'Who is it?' She questioned, rushing forward. 'We'll see once we clean his face, I'd assume,' her father made light of the situation, and it released some of the pressure on her chest. 'Let's lay him in the guest room for now.'

Her mother flew up the stairs to prepare.

'Let's go slowly, sweetheart,' her father said to her. Petra nodded numbly, and they began up the stairs, one step at a time. 'Don't slip,' she managed to say, voice cracking. The rain-soaked clothes dripped all over the steps. She glanced to her side at the man's face. It was bloodied and bruised, his chin gushing and an open wound evident on his forehead. His head was slumped and his hair hid his closed eyes. His shallow breathing frightened her.

'Where did you find him?' she asked.

'Now's not the time for questions, dearie,' they reached the final step and managed to carry him to the guest room, his feet dragging behind him.

'Put him down,' her mother instructed, folding back her sleeves and tying her hair back tightly. 'Petra, bring me the medical kit.' She nodded, assisting her father in laying the man down and rushing to the sewing room to retrieve the medical kit they kept amongst the needlework.

'Will he be okay?' she couldn't help but ask as she watched her mother set to work.

''We'll see in a minute.' She pulled out a scissor and sliced open his shirt. Petra held back a gasp at the state of the man's torso. Deep purple and orange bruises adorned his chest and down his side where his ribs were surely broken, and there was a cut along his stomach, like a sword wound. The man groaned, hand lifting to swipe against her mother's pressure on his wound. Petra's eyes snapped at his face.

'Can you hear me, young man?' her mother asked clearly. Petra remembered her telling her about how she used to help at her grandfather's apothecary as a young woman. She was a skilled medical practitioner, her mother was.

He groaned in response.

'I'll take that as a yes,' she heard her mother murmur. 'Listen to me. We are going to help you. Do you understand? We mean no harm.' He sent a side glance to her husband. 'I really hope I'm not doing something against the law, but I've got a feeling I am.'

Petra watched her father smile and lean in and kiss her mother's forehead. 'We'll leave it to you.' Her mother rolled her eyes.

'Let's go, Petra. It's best not to distract her.'

-X-

She sat with her father in the living room by the fireplace. He changed his clothes and insisted she eat, but she was feeling too numb to do so. 'We'll eat with mother.' She responded. She didn't ask any questions as they sat in silence, and despite her father's good natured smile, she could see the tension in his shoulders, the worry in his eyes.

When her mother came down an hour later, looking well worn out and exhausted, she sat in the armchair closest to the fire.

'How is he?' Her father asked.

'He could be better. He's well beaten up, has lots of sword slashes on his back and he's got two broken ribs, but they're all wounds that will heal in time. Nothing threatening if treated quickly.'

Petra released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. 'There's something else, though,' her mother said. Eyeing her husband, she leaned back tiredly in her chair. 'Where did you find him?'

'At the port, bleeding in a small boat that was untied. Whoever left him there intended him to sail away and die at sea.'

She nodded. 'And who is he?'

'If I knew I'd have informed his family, dear.'

'Did you know he is a Lemoi?'

Petra tensed, and her father's smile dropped. 'I figured he is a slave at most.' His wife sighed deeply, fingers massaging beside her eyes. 'He's the Duke's Lemoi, dear.'

Silence.

Petra's heart thundered, remembering the event in the street several years ago. The sound of broken bones echoed in her mind. It had never quite left her.

'But he's the Duke's most prized possession,' she began. 'How could he leave him like that? He's,' her lip quivered, 'he's the most envied Lemoi slave in the city.' It disgusted her to say it, to openly admit that the higher ups of their community were envious of each other's slaves they saw as nothing more than useful creations that happened to breathe. That each other's possessions and wealth wasn't enough, that they were jealous of the people owned by people.

'He wasn't just left there, Petra. He was abandoned. To abandon a Lemoi, do you know what it means?' Her mother questioned. 'It means to leave him without purpose. To be abandoned by their master means to suffer and die. And that is what they did.'

'He could have freed him,' she insisted.

'Lemoi cannot be freed.' Her father muttered. 'To legally free a Lemoi means to give them control of their life. Lemoi do not have free will and without an owner, they deem themselves useless and kill themselves. So they are killed by their masters instead.' Petra shuddered at the harsh reality. It was so ridiculous to accept such a concept, that humans couldn't see themselves capable of leading their own lives without having orders, being commanded to do everything. But she had seen it for years, the blatant loss on a Lemoi's face when their masters did not demand anything, the solid stone they became when they had nothing to do.

'Then what will we do? He cannot be freed and we cannot kill him.'

Her parents glanced at each other thoughtfully, as though sharing a thought. She envied them as much as she admired them when they did that. They were in sync, two halves of one being who understood each other as well as they understood themselves. It made her believe in love, gave her hope that one day, she will also have someone to be connected to. And in that one shared gaze, they reached a decision.

'Let's eat dinner,' her father said. 'It's been a long night and we're all hungry. We'll talk again in the morning, after we've rested also. Best decisions are made with clear minds.'

-X-

But Petra could not sleep. She tossed and turned in bed, kept up by both the ever-pouring rain outside her window and the thoughts of their newest visitor. He was in the room across her own, and they were the only two on the second floor as her parents' bedroom was on the first floor on the left.

It was almost sunrise when she finally decided to sit up, her mind alive with thoughts and her body feeling fidgety. Without thinking twice, she stood. Opening her door and softly padding across the corridor, she entered the guest room, shutting the wooden door behind her quietly.

Blood humming in her ears, she neared the bed, the only source of the light being the gloomy dimness seeping through the window. There was an hour or so to sunrise, and although it was dark, she could make out the outline of the man's body, laying motionlessly.

Cautiously sitting in the chair no doubt her mother had pulled out, she peered at him, gaze examining his feastures. Her eyes adjusted a little better, and she made out the sharp cheek bones, a nose that she suspected could be slightly crooked from being broken more than once not many years ago. She shuddered at the memory. His mouth was parted slightly, taking in shallow breaths through busted lips.

 _He's the Duke's Lemoi_

Carefully, she reached a hand to his face, fingers gently pushing aside the hair on his forehead. Momentarily distracted by its soft texture, she stroked it aside, and through the little light she had, she could see it. The French word Lemoi adorning just below his hairline in bold black ink. A brand.

She stared at it, unable to look away from the offensive word that single-handedly controlled the life of this man and many others like him. Robbed them of their futures. She hadn't ever seen an old Lemoi, not one who seemed beyond the age of thirty, and deep down, she knew it was because, the younger, the better. Stealthier, healthier, stronger. Young slaves who fought like warriors. What better weapon? This man lying before her could be no older than twenty eight at most, no matter how lacking in height and figure he was.

She was so distracted by her thoughts that she didn't realize the Lemoi had awoken and was staring straight at her until she looked away from the ink on his forehead. Her heart almost stopped when she met his gaze, his empty, empty gaze. Suppressing a gasp of surprise, she retracted her hand hastily before she could humiliate herself further.

'You've awoken,' she whispered, and then cleared her throat and spoke clearer. 'How are you feeling?'

His left eye was bruised and slightly swollen as he watched her. He opened his mouth to reply, but instead coughed shortly. Her hands twitched on reflex, itching to help, but there wasn't quite anything she could do. Reaching for the jug by the bed, she filled the companion glass with water and lifted it to him. 'Have a sip,' she said quietly.

The man stared at her offering. 'Go on,' she insisted. When he reached for it, however, she could see why he took it from her. Not because he wanted it, was thirsty or needed it to soothe his throat. He took it because it was an order. A command.

'You have no master now,' she told him softly. 'You don't have to do anything you're not inclined to.' He attempted to sit up, grimacing. An air of struggle left his lips and she took the glass away from him. 'Don't force yourself. Lay back down if you're hurting.'

He paused only a moment before complying, sighing through his nose at the released pain.

She put the glass down. 'My name is Petra,' she said. 'My father brought you in last night, said he found you at the docks. It was my mother who healed your wounds. Do you remember anything from last night before you slept?'

'A little, mistress.'

She tensed.

 _Don't you dare disrespect me or anyone above you, rat. You are nothing, you hear?_

The Duke's voice echoed in her mind, haunting and daunting at once.

'I'm not your mistress,' she said tersely, hands fisting in her nightgown.

'You said your family saved my life,' he grimaced in pain. 'Saved something as worthless as my life. I am now in your service.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' she snapped. 'They didn't save you for your servitude. You're not a slave here.' She inhaled sharply. 'What's your name?'

'I don't have one, mistress.'

She frowned. 'I said...what are you saying? Everyone has a name. What is yours? You're from France. French people have names too.'

'I have no name. It was taken from me when I became Lemoi.'

'Then...what do others call you?' She inquired, bemused.

'My masters called me Lemoi, mistress.'

She scoffed. 'That is not a name. What was it before you became Lemoi? Surely you had a name.'

His hands gripped the sheets they lay on, whether because of her questioning or out of pain, she didn't know. 'It is not mine any longer, mistress.'

'I am not your mistress,' she said lowly. 'And that name is yours. Becoming a slave doesn't change your identity.'

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. 'Levi.'

She paused, trying the name on her tongue. 'And your family name?'

'Ackerman. My name was Levi Ackerman.'

'Is Levi Ackerman,' she corrected, unable to stop herself. She shifted. 'Nice to meet you, Mr Levi Ackerman.'

He swallowed, eyelids fluttering open and his orbs finding hers in the growing light of sunrise. He wanted to, or rather, needed to reply, but nothing came out. Apologizing for waking him up at such an early time, she bid him good night and quietly left the room.

-X-

'Did you sleep well?' Her father asked her at the breakfast table.

She smiled tightly. 'Not as well as usual, unfortunately.'

He nodded. 'It's expected. Your mother and I have talked about our...situation and we've reached a conclusion.'

'Well?' She pressed, picking up her fork.

'It's part of the law that a master who has abandoned his slave gives the rights to the person who will accept him as their own ten days after the abandonment, without a fee. The Lemoi in our guest room above our heads, now has no master, but is not freed. He is still, by law, a slave.'

Petra resisted rolling her eyes. 'And so? You're going to give him away to someone else?' Levi's words ran through her mind, his use of mistress.

Saved something as worthless as my life. I am now in your service.

He grimaced. 'No, sweetie. We are...going to keep him. Here.'

The fork clattered to the plate, clanking loudly in the dining room. 'No,' she said. 'No. We won't do that, Father. We can't. You said a Lemoi will never enter this house. Those are your words.'

He sighed, and her mother reached across the table to put a hand on his forearm.

'We don't have any choice, Petra. Nobody will be willing to take in a slave abandoned by the Duke and treat him justly. But there is hope.'

Petra raised a brow. 'What is it?'

'A master can legally free his slave after a minimum of eighteen months after ownership. We cannot free a Lemoi because it will only cause them more harm to give them freedom of will that they do not own, but nobody said it always has to be that way?'

She furrowed her brows, thoroughly confused. 'I don't understand.'

'That Lemoi will be our slave, in documents, but we will treat him no different than another person. He will live here until the statute is finished, and by then, we can only pray that he will be,' she paused, 'different. More like us. Human.'

'He is human, Mother. How can you say that?'

She smiled sadly. 'You understand what we are saying, Petra. That man has lived as a possession for a good portion of his life. Lemoi cannot function without a purpose of servitude. If we can change that, we can free him.'

Petra numbly reached for her tea, wrapping her cold fingers around its warmth. 'I didn't know you could change a Lemoi. What if people have tried and failed?'

'Because people do not buy Lemois to make them human again. They buy them because they can't be any longer. But Claude Lemoi is not God. He is but a man and nothing is perfect. Not even his self-confessed creations.'

Silence overtook them, and Petra raised the tea to her lips, sipping little.

'Shall we go up and talk to our new visitor? He should be awake by now.' Her father said cheerily and stood up.

-X-

'How are you feeling?' her mother asked Levi, placing a tray of toast and tea by his bed. He stared at it for a moment, and Petra imagined that if he could express feelings, he would be stunned.

'Better, mistress.'

Her mother was momentarily taken aback but did not comment. 'You will be bedridden for a while, I'm afraid. Your ribs are broken and it'll take some time to heal. Everything else will have to be wrapped with fresh gauze daily, or will heal in its own time. Nothing that will kill you,' she smiled.

He nodded mechanically.

'My name is Peter Ral, and this is my wife, Margaret and my daughter, Petra,' her father introduced. 'Do you have a name?'

'It's Levi,' Petra answered before she could stop herself.

Her parents glanced at her, slightly surprised, but were able to put the pieces together. Her father nodded. 'Levi,' he said. 'Do you understand your situation at this moment? And everything that happened yesterday?'

Levi nodded again. 'My master abandoned me, and I was taken in by your family. You are my new master.'

Her father raised her brows, and Petra spared a side gaze at her mother to catch her surprised expression. 'We've,' her father paused, unsure of how to approach the situation, 'come to a decision with my wife about your arrangements. We've long since sworn off ever buying another slave, let alone a Lemoi, Levi. Having you here as a slave does not make us comfortable, but we cannot just let you leave, as you will most likely have no master who will take you in, nor will your old one free you. We're all in between a rock and a hard place, it seems.' He cleared his throat. 'That is why, we want to let you know of our conclusion and see if you agree.'

'You are my master, I cannot disagree with you.' Levi replied.

Finally overcoming the strangeness of the situation, her father's features smoothed. 'Your personal input will be better appreciated.'

'Yes, master.'

'We will wait ten days for the Duke to have you back. If he does not, you are by law our family's slave. But you will not live as so, not under this roof. You will live with us for the eighteen months to come, and once that time passes, we will free you.'

Levi bowed his head. 'There is no honour in being freed from my master.'

'But I am not your master, nor is my wife and daughter your mistresses. We are your caretakers. You will regard us as such. We will be your family, not your owners. Do you understand?'

'How can a slave act so disrespectfully as to be treated as an equal to those who own him?'

'Do not insult my morals, young man. I will not back down on my oath by accepting to be a Lemoi's master. Legally you may be Ral property but it is a circumstance that cannot be helped.'

Levi bowed his head further, voice dull. 'I apologize.' It was subtle, but Petra noticed that he caught himself before calling her father _master_ yet again.

Do you accept? To be part of this family for eighteen months until we can free you?'

'I'll be here for as long as you allow me.'

'Good.'

-X-

Three weeks. Levi was in bed for two weeks and only after that was he able to stand and move about. His wounds were slowly healing, the bruises fading. His back wounds and heavy gashes on his torso that were so prominent were now fading, slowly but surely.

The first time Petra saw him downstairs, away from the guestroom that now became his permanent residence, she was sitting at the breakfast table, putting butter on her scone when he slowly walked down the stairs, step by step. She raised her head, and it was a surprise to see him standing and looking well, as opposed to his almost-always pained state.

'Good morning, Miss Petra.' He replied. She tried not to notice the new title he gave her as her father had practically forbidden him from calling anyone 'master' or 'mistress' ever again. 'Come have breakfast, I'll bring you-' she stopped, sinking back in her chair.

'There are scones in the kitchen, freshly made. There's butter and jam too. Take whatever you like.'

Her mother had left early in the morning to go see the seamstress, and her father had set off on a trip the very night before. She was alone with the Lemoi, and although she felt no discomfort, she wondered if he did. When he returned from the kitchen, he had only one scone on his plate, and he stood in the doorway, waiting. After a moment, Petra realized he was waiting for her. For her command. She opened her mouth to tell him to sit across her, but it seemed too much. Too sudden for him. 'Sit wherever you feel comfortable.'

He did not sit at the table, nor did he stay in the room.

She remembered her father's words in the past week about how to speak to the Lemoi, how to make him feel comfortable and not confronted by sudden freedom. _He needs things to do. It's what Lemois believe they exist for. He'll have odd jobs around the house to keep busy, and don't do anything for him lest he feels useless. But do not make all decisions for him. Some things, let him decide for himself._

And at that moment, that something was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, on his knees with his scone. She realized idly that it was what he would do in the Duke's home. Eat on the floor. Eat minimal. Eat away from his superiors because how dare he do eat in front of his master? She wanted to tell him to move, sit somewhere he won't strain himself or be in discomfort in case he irritated his wounds or pained his ribs. But it was decision he decided to make, and she had no heart to express her dissatisfaction with it.

-X-

'Will you accompany Petra to the market?' Her mother asked Levi the following week after morning tea. 'She has some groceries to pick up for me, I'm sure she'll appreciate the company. Wouldn't you, honey?' She turned to her daughter.

Petra smiled shyly. 'If he doesn't mind.'

Levi stood, ready to follow her. But before they could leave, her mother pulled her aside, murmuring, 'if anyone dare say a word, you know what your father told you.'

-X-

Carrying a basket full of groceries on her arm, Petra raised an orange to Levi's nose. 'Does this one smell ripe to you?'

He stared, and leaning forward, sniffed. 'It smells ripe,' he confirmed.

She took a whiff again, and decided to take his word for it. Tossing it into the basket with an assortment of other fruit and vegetables, they paid for the lot and left the grocer. 'I believe a quick visit to the baker for bread is all there is left to do.'

On the way, Petra tried to ignore the stares they got. Whispers around them were hard not to hear, but Levi was doing a jolly well job of not reacting, so she decided to follow his lead. But when a young boy approached her, confusion written all over his face, she couldn't avoid the confrontation.

'Isn't that the Duke's Lemoi?' The scrawny boy asked, pointing at Levi without shame.

'He is not the Duke's Lemoi any longer.' She asserted, and every person in the street caught her word. No one made a comment, and the boy walked off after mumbling something along the lines of 'he's an ugly man.'

Sparing a glance to her side, Petra assessed his physique. He was not an ugly man, just a dull one. His stiff posture and expression gave off a cold, unapproachable aura, but when she imagined him smiling, she could not imagine him being ugly. In fact, he would be quite handsome. What knocked her out of her train of thoughts was a humourless laugh not several feet in front of her.

'So he's not dead.' A voice exclaimed, causing her shoulders to tense.

Looking up slowly, she met eyes with the Duke.

'My lord,' she bowed her head respectfully, if not coldly.

'I see you've got my Lemoi, young lady. Perhaps he is of more use to you than he was to me. It is why I left him out to rot in the first place. What are you doing, Lemoi?' His voice soured as he turned to Levi.

She could feel the tension and stiffness in Levi's body increase, if it was even possible.

'Why are you not bowing down to those higher than you, filth? Have you still not learned?'

Petra stood, momentarily stunned at the Duke's sheer _audacity_ to continue to order the man around. Beside her, Levi forcefully and slowly began to kneel, and Petra watched in horror as it unfolded, her hands freezing in place.

'To the ground, where your forehead belongs,' the Duke sneered. And it was that, the arrogance, pure superiority in his voice that snapped Petra's arms into motion. Catching Levi's forearm before he could bow, she tugged it with great force. 'What are you doing?' She snapped. Looking up at the Duke, she glared.

'I believe you forfeited the right to order him as you please when you abandoned him t _o rot,_ my lord. You have no authority over my Lemoi. I ask that you act within your boundaries.'

The Duke raised his brows, surprised at her blast of confidence. 'Your behaviour can get you in trouble, girl. You should speak with respect.'

'It is you who lacks the respect, my lord. Only the king himself has the power to command the Lemois under another's possession. You are over estimating your power when it comes to my property.' It left a bitter taste in her mouth to say it, but an example had to be set. She had to leave her mark, on the Duke and everyone here. 'Are you still kneeling?' She demanded, glaring at Levi. He stood wordlessly and she turned back to the Duke. 'I followed the procedure of the law. You abandoned your Lemoi and had ten days to recollect him if it was your wish. You did not, and therefore, he is under the command of his masters who accept him into their home. That is the roles of you and I, my lord. We should all know our place.'

The streets were frozen. No sound, no noise. Only the blow of the wind was audible to everyone's ears. It was that afternoon that it was clear. The Duke's Lemoi, was no longer the Duke's Lemoi. The Duke and everybody in witness knew it. And should anyone wonder, she called him Levi. An identity to which he was entitled to. As they left to go home, deciding against the bakery visit, Petra wondered whether he felt any more of a free man.

-X-

After that day, Petra refused to allow Levi out with her for more than two weeks, refusing to allow the town folk to look him down again. But she knew he grew bored in the house, even though he didn't express as such. Surely, he was bored. He was _human_. So instead, she spent as much time with him as possible. She read beside him, knitted scarves near him and spoke to him as much as she could without feeling like she was being too forceful. He had no complaints, he never did.

'Did you have a family in France?' She asked one day when they were hanging laundry together. He offered her a pair of her father's pants for hanging. 'No, Miss Petra.'

'Why not?'

'I was an orphan.'

'Oh, I see. Did you have a lover? Maybe a wife?'

A pause. 'None, Miss Petra.'

She frowned. Rumours of his assassin past were doubtful to her, although she was not oblivious enough to believe he wasn't a weapons master. He was older than she by at least eight years she was sure, so it was hard to believe he had no human relations before his capture. She analysed his face as he handed her the next item of clothing, this time one of her mother's dresses, but she was too caught up in his features to take it. He did not react as she observed him, taking in all his features even as his arm was extended. He waited patiently, not uttering a word as she lifted a hand to his nose. She gentle ran a finger over the rim, and if she wasn't so observant, she wouldn't have noticed the way he flinched ever so slightly under her touch. 'It's crooked,' she murmured.

It was from the incident all those years ago, she remembered. When the Duke had stepped on him in the street. Afterwards, it was clear he never saw a proper apothecary to have the broken bone treated. Her eyes met his, caught up in the swirl of grey that was as empty as the day she met him. But despite his lack of emotion, this time, he wasn't tense. No, his face was almost relaxed, as though he had abandoned his guard and felt calm. He looked good when he was calm.

Snapped out of her trance only by a chirping bird above, she blinked, and hastily took the dress from him. 'Thank you.'

-X-

By the third month of Levi's arrival to the Ral household, Petra could hardly remember before him. He was as void of feelings as he had always been, but with time, she noticed he felt more flexible in his decisions. By the fifth month, he allowed himself a second scone during breakfast, and even some jam something he'd never before put on his plate.

'Did the jam taste good?' she asked as they washed the dishes.

He was silent. '

'You didn't like it then?' she pressed.

'No, Miss Petra. It was a bit too sweet for my taste.' He'd never spoken of his preferences before. Never claimed to like or dislike anything. But now that he had, she felt a burden lift off her chest. She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips as she put away the last of the plates.

'I guess we will just find you other condiments to enjoy with your breakfast then, won't we?' She grinned, and he was ever so hesitant when he nodded. 'As Miss Petra wishes.'

-X-

Petra was thrilled when Elizabeth visited them a week later, with her close to five year old daughter who had wild blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. She hadn't seen them in months, and couldn't contain her excitement as little Bessie threw herself into her arms screaming 'Auntie Petra!' loudly. Petra laughed as she lifted the girl and twirled her around, making sure she was giggling with dizziness before showering her with kisses.

'It's been so long since I've seen you,' she exclaimed, unable to keep the delight from her voice. Elizabeth and her mother's laugh could be heard from the family room. A few minutes later, she entered with Bessie in her arms.

'Your mother said you were grocery shopping. We decided to wait for you to come home,' Elizabeth said as she stood to greet Petra.

'I'm glad,' Petra grinned. 'It feels like it's been years.'

'It does,' Elizabeth smiled, but it faltered slightly when she noticed the presence behind her. Petra turned to see Levi standing awkwardly in the doorway, watching them. She worried over Elizabeth reacting negatively to the news, but the older woman covered her emotions quickly with a wide smile. 'You must be Levi. Margaret has told me so much about you.'

Levi nodded.

Petra lifted Bessie a little higher in her arms, 'this is Elizabeth and her daughter, Bessie. She brought me up when I was younger.'

'It's a pleasure, Miss Elizabeth,' he declared, although his voice suggested otherwise. Petra had long learned to not take his indifference personally. It seemed Elizabeth was quick to also do so. 'Likewise,' she replied.

Bessie wriggled in her arms, as though asking to be let down, which Petra obliged to. Walking up to the young man, the little girl pulled on his tunic, as though demanding his attention.

'Is your name Levi?' she asked brightly, her voice affected slightly by a child's lisp that made her all the more delightful. Petra smiled, but couldn't nudge away the worry that Levi might react unfavourably.

He was silent for a few moments before he nodded, 'yes it is.' Bessie giggled in response and grabbed his hand, causing him to lurch forward. 'I'm Bessie,' she stated proudly.

Petra had grown to used to interpreting his subtle facial responses that she immediately noticed the softening in his eyes. 'Pleasure to meet you, Miss Bessie.'

-X-

'What did you think of Bessie?' she asked him later that night before she retired to bed.

'She is an agreeable child.' He replied.

'She is. Quite adorable for her age.'

'Indeed.'

Petra hesitated a little, unable to look at him as she asked, 'would you like to have kids some day?'

She was met by silence, one that stretched long enough to have her glance up at him. And what she saw froze her to the spot. It was ever so slight, but there was a small smile gracing his lips, tugging the corners of his mouth. His face was stiff, as though unused to accommodating such an expression, but it was absolutely, visibly there.

'Perhaps one day, Miss Petra.'

-X-

 _ **So this was originally meant to be a one shot but it's dragging on too long so I've decided to turn it into a two-shot.**_

 _ **Hopefully it peaked your interest enough to leave a review and tell me your thoughts!**_

 _ **I dont intend to drag on the update, so if you stick around, I'll see you again with the second and final chapter soon!**_

 _ **Love & Respect **_

_**xx**_


	2. Fall

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

 **Title: Willow Waves**

 **Rating: T**

 **Genre: Romance/Angst**

 **Pairing: Levi/Petra**

 **UNEDITED UNEDITED UNEDITED**

* * *

'Do you enjoy reading, or are you doing so simply because you are bored?' Petra asked one evening, finding Levi seated at the dining table with a book in hand.

'I used to enjoy reading,' he acknowledged neutrally. 'It has been years since I've picked up a book, however.'

'You are almost finished with it, I see,' she said, noting that he was near the end of the novel. 'My father's bookshelf in his room has many books. Something might peak your interest.'

'Thank you, Miss Petra.' Their eyes met, and Petra felt as though she was being absorbed, the grey hue drawing her in. Clearing her throat, she smiled. 'I'll make tea.'

He stood, 'I will help you.'

'No, please, no need. You read your book.' She urged, and he hesitated slightly. 'I'll be back shortly,' with a final smile she turned to the kitchen.

-X-

When she finally had the courage to ask, it escaped her as quickly as it came. 'What was your life like in France? Before you were...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked.'

Silence. 'I was a weapons master.' He said simply.

She had known as much. 'Like a blacksmith?'

He paused. 'Yes. But I wielded the weapons I made. I often protected those who paid for my services, and trained disciples.'

'You were a teacher then! Could you possibly teach me? To wield a musket perhaps,' she asked eagerly. However, his face tensed and immediately put an end to her bubbling excitement. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked.'

'If it is what you desire, I will teach you, Miss Petra,' he replied, but the tension in his muscles hadn't relaxed.

'It is alright. I will not force you to teach me when you do not want to. But may I ask why?'

He was silent, and she watched him, ready to open her mouth and apologise once more for prodding him further. However, he spoke before she could. 'You need not know how to wield a weapon. It only brings heartache and pain,' he said quietly, voice a soft murmur. 'And I will protect you from danger, should the need arise. You do not have to worry.'

It was a silent promise, one that made her heart swell. 'Thank you. I...thank you.'

-X-

By the end of Levi's first year in the Ral household, Petra knew she had fallen deeply in love with him. Lemoi, old and emotionless he may be, but unloved, he was not. She awoke every morning with renewed energy, only increased further when she saw him at breakfast. They spent almost every waking moment together, and Petra never left the house without him by her side. The city folk soon knew to look for the other part of the pair should they spot one, for they were never far apart.

They often helped Mrs Ral prepare dinner together, did the laundry together, shared books they thought the other would be interested in. The thought of him leaving her in less than half a year caused her great grief, but she chastised herself for being upset at his freedom. It was his right, and it was only selfish of her to want him to stay with their family.

'You must be counting down the days,' she said cheerfully when they spoke of it.

'I am,' he agreed, drying the dishes she washed with a dry cloth, and although his emotions were never clear, she understood he did not seem particularly happy. Dismissing it as a figment of her hopeful imagination, she handed him the next plate. 'Do you have any plans? I imagine you have a future mapped out for yourself.'

'I do not know,' he admitted. 'Perhaps I will begin making weapons again, or protect those willing to hire me.'

 _Stay here_ , she wanted to say. 'Sounds wonderful,' she said.

-X-

The first person to find out her feelings for Levi had been the apothecary. She visited him with Levi one evening when her mother was suffering from a rash and sent them to the apothecary to purchase an ointment.

'You look at him the way I used to look at my wife in our youth,' he said when Levi had his back turned. Petra turned several shades of red.

'I do not understand,' she said meekly.

The apothecary smiled at her, as though sympathetic. 'It is best you forget your feelings for him, my dear. Those slaves, they are only human shells of what were once people. Levi is one of them, Petra. He is not like you and me, he has no humanity left in his soul. Don't look for it.'

She wanted to deny his observations, tell him he misunderstood, that she was only Levi's friend, and that he was not a slave but part of their family. And yet, the words died in her throat.

'Thank you,' she said when he prepared the ointment. As they left, she glanced at Levi, whose hand was steadily placed on his musket at his hip. His eyes stared straight ahead, mouth grim as it always was. She yearned to reach out and smooth out the lines around his lips, his eyes. Make him smile, laugh. If she lifted her hand, she would touch him, and yet, the distance between them felt so wide.

She stopped in her tracks, Levi halting also as soon as he noticed, several steps ahead of her.

'Is something the matter, Miss Petra?' He asked.

 _Everything_. 'Levi, I—' A creak sounded above her, as though straining, and suddenly, Levi's eyes sharpened and he was pulling her against him so hard she tumbled into chest as he spun her around. A crash sounded, and when her eyes regained focus from the momentary shock, she realized the shattered wood over Levi's shoulder, where she had been standing only seconds ago.

'Good Lord! Are you alright, child?' A woman shrieked, approaching them with quick steps.

Shaken, Petra pulled away from his fierce grip, catching his eye for a moment, and what she saw shocked her more than the possibility of injury had. Fear. Raw, wild fear burning in Levi's eyes like a raging flame.

'I'm okay,' she responded shakily, unable to look away.

'That roof has been unstable for weeks! I told Mrs Jonson to have it fixed but she didn't listen!' the woman went on, attracting a larger crowd. 'You are lucky you haven't been harmed.'

'Indeed,' she said, her skin burning where Levi's hand was clutching her arm.

'Are you okay, Miss Petra?' he asked frantically, voice filled with more emotion than she had ever seen him express. Her blood hummed in her eyes, heart pounding in her chest as she clutched at his shirt. 'I am.'

-X-

Later that day, she couldn't help but notice how he seemed particularly tense in his movements, as though unable to move. 'Are you feeling alright?' She asked as they were preparing dinner.

'Yes, Miss Petra,' he replied, but when he turned his back, she didn't miss the faint streak of blood down his back.

That night, she came to his room with a healing ointment. 'Let me look at your back,' she said gently. 'The wood must have scraped it badly.'

He wanted to protest, she saw it in his eyes, but his submissive days had yet to be in the past, and so he removed his shirt. Seated on the bed, she tended to the wound, cleaning it and applying the ointment. It was not deep, but ran along his spine, which explained why he seemed to be in pain.

'You should have said earlier that you were injured,' she chastised, 'although I am at fault for not asking.' His skin was warm beneath her fingers as she gently smoothed the ointment on.

'I am only glad you were not harmed, Miss Petra.'

'I would rather be injured then you, Levi,' she confessed softly. His shoulders tensed, and she panicked, instantly regretting her words. But he did not move, so she finished her work and stood from the bed. 'Let the ointment dry a little before you put on a shirt. Try not to sleep on your back otherwise it will smudge.' She instructed.

She turned to go, but he said her name before she could reach the door. 'Before the incident today, you were about to say something,' he said.

In the dimly lit room, she prayed he could not see her blush. 'It does not matter.'

-X-

It was easy to pretend that Levi didn't have nightmares. Easy to forget. Mostly because his whimpers couldn't be heard from her room in the dead of the night, only audible when she is up to get a glass of water. She'd heard him scream once, back when he had first arrived, and she had been too caught up by fear to rush to his room. After that, he suffered from nightmares quietly, but it wasn't uncommon to sometimes hear him moan incorrigible words on her way passed his room. It made her heart ache, to know there was nothing to do for him, nothing she can do, except listen and hope he awoke soon. She often wondered what it was he dreamed about, but she imagined it was his time as a Lemoi, the period in which he was stripped of his freedom, drugged, tortured, made into something not completely whole. But she didn't think of such thoughts during the day. Only at night, when she can hear his cries, moans and whimpers that sounded like a result of pain and rough treatment, she wanted to sob. The next day, she gave no indication that she heard him, and they went about their lives. It was why it was easy to forget, to pretend.

But it was one night, when she woke up feeling thirsty, that she saw him, squatting in the corner of her room, a tortured expression painting his features as he stared at the floor. Her heart sped up, thumping against her ribcage like a bird trying to escape.

'Levi?' she voiced, sounding scratchy from sleep.

He looked up, dazed, eyes glassy. 'Miss Petra,' he acknowledged tiredly.

'What are you doing here at this time? Did something happen?' she asked softly, sitting up and pushing the covers aside.

'I,' he swallowed, closing his eyes. 'I didn't mean to frighten you.' He ended lamely, sounding half hearted.

'Is everything okay?' she stood up, padding softly towards him and kneeling in front of his form. 'Look at me,' she murmured, taking his hand that was cradling his head into her own. His eyes opened, stormy grey orbs finding mine. 'Tell me what happened.'

'I,' his tongue darted out, staining his dried lips. 'I had a nightmare. I just needed to make sure you were safe.'

A nightmare? Of her?

'I'm safe,' she confirmed. 'Remember? I'm safe because you'll protect me. You promised.'

He squeezed her hand softly, and he released a sigh of defeat. 'I did.'

'How long have you been in here?'

He hesitated. 'I'm not sure. It feels as though it's been hours.'

She reached out somewhat reluctantly, letting go of his hand to wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him towards her. He stumbled forward onto his knees, unresponsive for a heart-stopping moment that made her regret ever touching him. But before she knew it, his arms were coming around to tighten across her back. She could feel his heart, beating like a drum, and she knew he could feel hers. It seemed to calm him, as his shoulders lost their tension.

'You'll protect me,' she reminded. 'And I'll protect you.'

That night, she pulled him into her bed, no matter how inappropriate it would be for her to do so. She tightened her arms around him and he fell asleep against her chest, comforted she knew, from the sound of her heart beating. For the rest of the night, he didn't appear to have any nightmares, and by the next morning he wasn't there when she awoke.

It was meant to be a onetime comfort that she offered him, but that night set itself as a precedent for the future, and every time he had a nightmare, he came to her room in the dead of the night, lightly touching her hand, her face, her hair, until she awoke, sleepily pulling him in beside her and throwing the covers over them and comforting him until he fell back to sleep.

'When you come to me, is it only when I'm in your nightmares?' she asked quietly one night, her hand caressing his hair soothingly as he lay against her.

'At times,' he confirmed softly. 'I need to know you are alive. That you haven't been killed or tortured. That no one stole you from your family to turn you into a Lemoi,' his voice wavered. It was illogical on many levels, beginning with the fact that Lemois were French slaves, and nobody would steal a merchant's daughter, but logic didn't matter when a person's truest fears flash before their very eyes every night.

'Just from my family?' she asked.

His grip on her hip tightened. 'From me.'

In a spur of bravery, she pressed her lips against his forehead in a chaste kiss, and she felt his lids close in response, eyelashes fluttering against her neck.

She wanted to tell him she would go nowhere without him, that she needed to be with him to know that he was safe as well, but it would be all for naught. There was only a month left of his time as a Lemoi, when he would be free to leave her and her family, this town and this country. He could go back to France, back home where he truly belonged, and she wouldn't be able to utter a word. So instead, she said nothing.

-X-

She didn't realise that the time had come until his final night, or rather, refused to think about it. Her family had never spoken to Levi about what would happen after, but tonight, her father did. They were having dinner, in silence for the first time in months when he cleared his throat.

'Now Levi,' he began, looking him firmly in the eye. Levi returned his gaze. 'This is possibly the last dinner we will have together, but it does not have to be. You know that we see you as a son, don't you? You are in free liberty to leave after tomorrow, but we just wanted you to know that you do not have to.' He glanced towards me. 'I am sure Petra feels the same as we do.' Her mother smiled at Levi warmly.

Levi looked, as he did these days without looking emotionless, calm, and he put his spoon down. 'Thank you Mr Ral. I cannot thank you enough for taking me in and treating me as your own, nor can I ever repay you for the kindness you have shown me. But I do not want to intrude any longer in your home.'

'Intrusion? You do no such thing. It has been our greatest pleasure to host for you,' he paused, 'we cannot stop you from leaving, but you must know that this will always be your home, and our door will always be open to you.'

Levi nodded. 'Thank you, Mr and Mrs Ral.'

No one added anything else, and the topic closed itself. Later, Levi and her father locked themselves into the study, presumably because Levi had something he wanted to say. She didn't eavesdrop as she usually would, nor did she care, because the day had exhausted her ability to do so.

For the rest of the night, Petra remained silent, refusing to think of it as Levi's last as it brought too much pain. Later, when she couldn't sleep, tossing and turning until she turned her bed into ruins, she left her room and approached Levi's. Her hands shook as she opened his bedroom door, and closed it softly behind her. The floor creaked no matter how softly she treaded to his bed, where his eyes opened immediately, as though sensing her presence. There was only a moment's pause between them before he shifted slightly, opening the covers for her. She slid in beside him, relishing in being surrounded by his scent. His arm and the cover closed around her and she leaned into his chest.

'So you are leaving,' she murmured against his skin. He shivered, and she wanted to believe it wasn't the cold that made him so.

'I do not have a choice,' he replied.

'But you do. You can stay here. You can,' her voice caught. _You can stay with me._ 'Where will you go?'

'I wish to go to London. Mr Ral spoke of a blacksmith who will be willing to accept me into his practise. I will start from there.'

'What of France?' She asked.

He stiffened slightly. 'I don't have a life in France anymore. If I return, I won't remember my old life. Only what I suffered after I was captured.'

I nodded, understanding. 'London is as good a place as any to start,' I said, attempting to be light but only sounding strained. 'Don't forget me, Levi.' I whispered. 'I know I won't forget you.'

His arms tightened. 'I can't forget you, Miss Petra.'

When she awoke the next day, she was in her own bed, and Levi had already left, the only proof of his previous presence in the house being his room, and a letter he left on her bedside.

 _Miss Petra,_

 _You might believe it is cowardly that I left without a goodbye, and perhaps it is, but I never did accept that I was a cowardly man, and so I leave you this letter in hope that it would ease your pain as it has eased mine. I will be back, Miss Petra, and this is my promise to you as it was to protect you. I thank your family for your hospitality, and while it has never been my wish to leave your side, instead, it has been that I serve you until my last breath; my departure is for the best._

 _There are no words to encompass how grateful I am to you, and there will never be enough that I can do to repay what you have given me. My time as a Lemoi is one that I've never spoken of, not out of lack of wanting to, but out of humiliation. The degradation of my existence, while it has broken me, has brought me to you. They've broken my body, but my spirit remains whole, and that is what you have given me._

 _Upon my rrturn, it would be my greatest fear to see you marry another man, but I cannot stop you, and should you take upon yourself such a decision, I will support you wholeheartedly, and serve you until you wish me to no longer do so._

 _I never thought I would be able to feel again, and yet, it is what my time with you has given me. I love you, Miss Petra, and while I do not expect you to feel the same, it is your right to know the extent of my feelings for you. I beg your forgiveness for the lack of structure in this poor excuse of a letter, but perhaps I have been able to relay what I wanted to. If not, I promise to show you, when I return. This isn't goodbye._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Levi_

-X-

Much like his letter, Petra's life no longer had any rhythm once Levi left. It was difficult to leave the house, play with Bessie, go to the market without him, but after many months of trying to piece her heart back together with the hope of his return, she managed to return to her old self. Her father reassured her he'd return soon, which was comforting during the first four months, but when four months turned into five months and five turned into eleven, and before she knew it she had turned twenty, with no prospects of marriage because everyone knew she was waiting for Levi to come back.

In a way, she knew it was for the best, not for her, but for him. It was time for him to find his own two feet and settle back into a life of independence where he didn't need others to support him through the trauma he'd been through. It was her greatest fear to confess so, but she prayed he didn't find another woman who could replace her. One that made him realise his feelings weren't love, but gratefulness that had been blinded by the hope for love that she exuded. This way, if — when— he returned, she would know for sure that their feelings were real, their love wasn't a mistake.

He sent no letters, and all she had to trust in was blind faith, until the fateful day she had come home from the market with a basketful of groceries. 'I'm home,' she called into the house, distracted as she made her way into the kitchen. When she heard no response, she went into the living room, ready to ask her mother why she wasn't replying when she saw him.

'Levi,' she breathed, frozen to where she stood as she absorbed the image before her. Levi, dressed formally, sitting across her father. Her father smiled at her, 'say hello to our guest.'

Levi looked...so different. His face was as stoic as it had always been, but there was a hope in his eyes that she knew was reflected in her own. And nerves. He was _nervous._ Before she knew what she was doing, she launched herself forward and he stood up to pull her into his arms, embracing her as tightly as he could. His scent filled her nose, and her eyes were stinging because it was so familiar and she _missed him so much._

She could hear her parents quietly leave the room, and she should've pulled back and apologised for behaving so inappropriately in front of them, but somehow she knew it was okay.

'I missed you so much,' she gasped against his neck, and he sighed. 'As did I.'

Pulling back, she looked into his eyes, where the previous nerves had transformed into untamed happiness. 'I love you,' she confessed through the blur of her tears. 'It's been so long but I love you as much as I did the night you left. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm so sorry,' he pulled her back into him, arms wrapping around her torso as though afraid she would disappear if he let go.

'I came back for you,' he said, voice rough with emotion.

'Are you here to stay?' she asked wildly, 'tell me you're here to stay. Don't leave again.'

'I'm not here to stay,' he said, and she felt her fear creep back into her, and she held onto him tightly. 'I'm here to take you with me.'

Later, when she was calm and the euphoria of the moment had passed, they sat with her parents, and Levi asked for her hand in marriage. He explained that the night he left, he had asked her father for his blessings, and promised to return when he was financially able to provide for her.

'And I agreed. The best son in law is the one that makes my daughter happy. If you wish to marry Levi, my dear Petra, I give you my blessings.'

She accepted without hesitation and they celebrated the engagement, just between themselves.

-X-

Later at night, she crawled into his bed where they held each other until the sun dawned.

'Why didn't you ever write to me?' She whispered.

'I feared that any news from you will make me come back prematurely. I wanted to be ready to be your husband, and I couldn't do that until very recently. I had nothing to give you.'

'I just wanted you,' she confessed. 'But what did you do there?'

He explained his time in London, how the blacksmith her father recommended to him accepted him and helped him earn enough money until he could begin his own business where he made weapons. French weaponry that couldn't be found here. It was a slow start but it steadily grew until he had made a decent income. He trained apprentices for almost seven months before he deemed them ready to handle the business while he had come to ask for her hand in marriage.

'It sounds wonderful,' Petra murmured.

'It is. I wanted to open a branch in this town, to be close to you and your family but it will make no profit since weapons here are not in demand. That is why I will take you to London. If it is what you want.' He sounded reluctant.

'Anywhere with you is where I want,' she grinned, and he leaned forward to kiss her nose, a silly yet the most intimate gesture he'd ever initiated. It left her breathless, and she pressed her lips against his. He responded softly, and then hungrily, until they were clinging to each other like the other was their lifeline. When they pulled apart for air, he kissed her cheek and they settled back against the pillows.

'I believed you would come back, but sometimes it was hard,' she admitted. 'I thought you'd find someone else, or you'd realise that I wasn't worth it.'

'I realised no such thing. You have been the greatest gift God has ever given me, Petra Ral.' It was the first time he called her by full name, with no 'Miss' attached to it to suggest distance. 'I love you.'

'And I love you,' she smiled.

They spoke of his nightmares. While in London, they had been mostly of her, less of his time as a Lemoi, and he confessed to not knowing which was worse. 'Only the hope of coming back to you made me go forward. Your father had given his blessings before I left, and the only obstacle standing between us was myself. I'm sorry, Petra. I hope you can forgive me.'

'I've forgiven you long ago. I know you needed to find your own path, needed to begin a new life without us. Without me. It was truly for the best, and I believe that.' Her understanding seemed to have touched him, and he kissed her again.

'We'll visit often. So we can see your family.' He assured.

'That's all I need.'

It was hard to believe that not a day ago she was a single, lovestruck young woman who only believed in a promise. Not when she was laying here with the man who was so broken, and yet made her so whole. Their future lay ahead, somewhere far away and foreign, but it was okay, because she had never felt so content.

* * *

 _ **Done. A two week project turned into several months worth, and I'm so sorry. Exams and school and certain family situations have gotten in the way of my writing. But I hope I've delivered**_

 _ **Thank you to everyone whose reviewed and favourited, and hopefully you'll let me know you're thoughts!**_

 _ **Love you guysss**_

 _ **xxxx**_


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